


The Only Constant

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Gen, Gen Fic, Growing Up, One Shot, Parenthood, Spanking, Weechesters, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-06
Updated: 2011-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John tries to teach Dean a lesson and instead learns one himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Constant

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Parental spanking of a minor.

It was late afternoon by the time John made it back. He pulled the Impala into the vacant lot of what had once been a decent motel. Now all it had going for it was four walls and a roof for dirt cheap. That was all John needed, but his boys were less amused by the accommodations.

The room had two perfectly acceptable beds, but his sons had apparently decided as of two days ago that they were too old to share a bed. His sons had also come under the delusion that this family was a democracy. Wrong on both accounts.

He had let them sort it out for themselves and honestly had been too distracted with the details of the hunt to notice how the dispute had unfolded. All he knew was that Sammy had been the one to put up the fuss about sharing the bed and somehow it was Dean who ended up sleeping in a chair. Tonight Dean would find it worth the fight for the bed.

Last night’s hunt had been a disaster. Dean’s head had been in the clouds and it had nearly gotten them both killed. There was no room for mistakes in what they did and Dean’s focus as of late was erratic at best. John could give his son all the training in the world, but if Dean didn’t pay enough attention to apply it then it wouldn’t make any difference.

It had been Dean’s job to prep the guns. All he had to do was clean them and load the silver rounds, simple enough. Dean had cleaned them and had been melting down the silver when John had left to take care of other business. He’d assumed Dean could handle the simple task of putting the cooled bullets into the clips. While Dean had loaded the clips, he hadn’t loaded them with silver.

The werewolf hadn’t even slowed down as it barreled towards Dean. If John hadn’t had a backup silver knife, Dean being ripped to shreds would have been the best case scenario. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t clear his head of the visual, of the fact that he had nearly lost his son last night.

There had been no time to discuss it last night. With a second werewolf still in the area he’d had to throw Dean in the car and speed back to the motel room to get the silver bullets Dean had left in the bathroom of all places. He’d dumped Dean in the room with a promise of a nice long talk when he got back.

As much as he’d prefer to sit in the car and avoid what needed to be done, it had been over twelve hours since he’d last seen the boys. Sam was apparently staying late at school, but Dean was under strict orders to be waiting for him when he got back. He’d left his son waiting long enough.

Grabbing his bag, he headed in. When he unlocked the door to the room he found Dean sprawled on the bed watching television. Dean flicked off the television too quickly when John entered. He was sure he’d be finding that one on the motel bill.

John dropped the bag at the table before turning to look at his anxious son. “Get over here, Dean.”

For a moment Dean’s eyes darted around as if he was contemplating escape, but he hopped off the bed and walked over to John without comment. Usually Dean would be asking about how the hunt had gone though he obviously knew better than to do that now. Instead Dean just stood awkwardly in front of him staring at his own shoes.

“You okay?” John asked.

A look of surprise flashed over Dean’s face before he nodded. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine.”

Needing to verify it for himself, John pulled up Dean’s shirt to make sure that none of the bruising from last nights attack was anything serious. He’d given it a cursory look last night, but hadn’t had the time to check over Dean like he should have.

“Dad...” Dean groaned in embarrassment as he lifted his arms out of the way. “Seriously. I’m okay.” After shifting uncomfortably, Dean added, “And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, son. You’re sorry about the bullets. Just like you were sorry about the spell, and sorry about the dagger...do you have any idea how close you were to dying last night?”

“I know...look, I’m sorry. I just...”

“Sorry, doesn’t cut it, Dean. If I can’t trust you to have your head in the hunt then I can’t have you endangering yourself and the hunt.”

“Dad, please. No. I can do it.”

“I’m not going to lose you. This carelessness of yours has to stop.”

“It will.”

“Oh, I know it will.” Satisfied that Dean’s injuries were minor, John pulled over a chair, sat down and patted his thigh. “Pants down.”

A look of disbelief flashed over Dean’s face. “Dad, seriously?”

He’d tried talking this through with Dean. Several times now Dean had sworn it would never happen again, but his son obviously was in need of something more memorable than words.

“Do you want to wait until your brother gets here?”

“No, sir.” After a long delay Dean looked back up at him. “Just punch me.”

“What did you say?”

“Come on,” Dean said, motioning towards his already bruised abdomen. “Just hit me, beat me up. Whatever. I won’t even fight back.”

God help him, he was the father of the world’s only underage child abuse advocate. Dean had even thought it through enough not to ask him to punch him in the face where someone would notice. With a weary sigh, John rubbed his neck before narrowing his eyes on his son.

“Dean, I’m not going to beat you and if anyone else tries to I’ll take them over my knee too. Let’s just get this over with.” When Dean didn’t move John’s glare hardened. “Now, Dean.”

“I’m coming,” Dean grumbled.

Slowly Dean unbuttoned his jeans, too slow for John’s liking. Delays and inconsistencies in following orders was the whole problem. It was what had nearly gotten his son killed.

Standing from the chair, John quickly closed the distance between him and Dean. He latched onto his son’s arm, eliciting a surprised yelp as he dragged Dean over, yanked his jeans down and draped the startled boy over his knees.

With Dean’s weight resting securely on his thighs, he slid the boy’s boxers down. There was no preamble before he began laying hard swats over Dean’s upturned rear. The pale skin he targeted quickly colored as John layered swat over swat. It wasn’t long before Dean was squirming and biting back a whimper at each hit.

At that John’s hand stopped long enough to readjust the position of his son. He shifted Dean forward on his lap, more thoroughly exposing the lower portion of his backend. He picked up the pace, moving down to Dean’s upper thighs before settling in over his sit spot.

“When you load a weapon, you pay attention,” John said slowly, punctuating each word with a sound slap to the same tender area.

Dean’s chocked moans grew more desperate and John knew the message was being driven home. Even if Dean was too lost in the immortal teenage mentality to feel compelled to take proper precautions, he would be remembering on account of this.

Suddenly Dean started kicking and not just in a knee jerk reaction to the harsh swats. It wasn’t like Dean to put up a fuss about a spanking, but John had to admit that he’d never given it to him this hard. He also had never nearly watched his son die.

“Dad, please...”

When John heard the urgent plea, he instantly stopped the movement of his hand to check himself. He knew Dean was hurting and he had no doubt that his son would be thinking twice about sitting for a good long while, but making him think was the point.

Concern still etched John’s brow as he rubbed his hand over the heated skin. He had no doubt that it stung fiercely, but his son had been thrown into a brick wall last night and barely blinked. It wasn’t anything Dean couldn’t handle.

Yet without warning Dean tried to stand up, tripping up on his pants and nearly tumbling off John’s lap. John tightened his grip around his waist, pulling him back down. Instead of complying with the unspoken order to still himself, Dean struggled harder.

“Dean, what the hell are you doing?”

“Let me up.”

“That’s enough,” John barked. “I’m the only one that gives orders around here.” He laid down a particularly punishing swat that drew a gasp from Dean, but didn’t stop his son’s shifting. “Do you want another spanking before bed?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Please, Dad. Just stop, okay?”

Irritation gave way to worry as John took in Dean’s uneven breathing and jerky movements. As Dean’s hips twisted John felt the problem pressing hard against his thigh. For a brief moment he closed his eyes as it hit him. He didn’t see a problem with his baby boys sharing a bed, but at some point when he hadn’t been looking, the baby boy draped over his lap had turned into a young man.

“Dad?”

“Go ahead,” John replied.

He helped ease Dean back to his feet, making a show of looking the other way while Dean quickly yanked up his boxers. When he looked to Dean, his son’s cheeks were blushed with embarrassment.

“I need to get some things out of the car,” John said as he stood. “It’ll take a couple of minutes. We’ll talk when I get back.”

“Can’t wait...” John cleared his throat and Dean straightened his stance. “I mean yes, sir.”

After John gave him an approving nod, Dean scurried off to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. With a shake of his head, John headed back out to the car. He leaned against the trunk, arms crossed over his chest and eyes staring past the light traffic traveling down the road out front of the motel.

The simple thought that Dean was not just a little boy anymore knocked him back. There shouldn’t be anything shocking about the realization. He was letting Dean hunt with him, but that was out of necessity. The same necessity that had Dean caring for his little brother since he was four years old.

He had just spanked his fourteen year old for loading the wrong bullets into a gun, had spanked him for screwing up a salt line when he was seven, for drinking the last of the holy water when he was five. None of these were things a child should even know about, let alone have to worry about.

The fact was that Dean hadn’t been a boy for a very long time, but admitting that was admitting defeat. If he now said Dean was a young man, it meant there was no longer a chance to give his son the childhood he had deserved. It meant that he’d been too distracted by the hunt to even notice that the opportunity had passed.

Glancing back to the room, he caught Dean’s silhouette pacing back and forth in front of the window. He left the car to rejoin his son. Dean jumped slightly when John pushed opened the motel room door, standing stiffly as he looked towards him, but not quite at him.

“Dad, I...”

“Happens to the best of, Dean.” With a puzzled look his son finally met his eyes. “It’s how my old man knew it was time to switch to standing with a belt.”

“Really?” At first the tone was relief until the second half of the statement hit him. “A belt?” Dean asked nervously.

John gave a firm nod, letting Dean mull it over in his mind while he changed the subject. “Do I even want to know why the bullets were in the bathroom?”

“I was just helping Sammy finish his project and I guess I carried them in and I had the other bullets on the table...it was stupid.”

“What project?”

“For the science fair.” Dean looked to the clock and gave John a pleading look. “It only goes for another hour and he really wanted me to see his display.” Looking down Dean swallowed hard, rubbing his sore behind. “If we can wait and do that belt thing before bed...”

Dean might as well have just punched him in the gut. He hadn’t known that Sam was working on any projects or that his youngest son was at a science fair. Honestly he didn’t even know what classes Sam was taking but he realized that Dean did.

It wasn’t girls or teenage angst that was distracting Dean. It was the fact that Dean’s attention was divided between hunting, trying to get himself through school and trying to raise John’s youngest son.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, kiddo.” A look of hope crept onto Dean’s face. “Safe to say you’ll check what you’re loading next time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ll do some work with the guns tonight after we get back.”

“Back? I thought the hunt was over.”

“It is,” John replied as he grabbed his jacket.

“Then where are you going?”

“Your brother wanted you to see his project, right?” Dean nodded, but still looked confused. “I’ll drive you over. We can take a look at it together.”


End file.
